WHAT'S IN A NAME?

The patient goes to the doctor.

"I can't sleep because I keep having the same dream. I'm inside this...well, I don't know which it is, and there's another one right next to the one I'm in."

"Just calm down and tell me more," the doctor advises.

"I'm struggling to identify, to classify, to name. Are they wigwams or tepees?"

"Describe them to me," she (the female doctor, that is: note no gender bias) suggests.

"Well, they're both tall, pointy, made of Indian type canvas, oh I can't explain. They're just like in the movies in the Old West. What are they, wigwams or tepees? I gotta know."

"Ahh, you're just two tense."

Tents, get it? Two tents.

I don't know. I've never been much of a joke teller, and I'm certain that I butchered that one. But it's a joke our son loves and I like to watch him tell it. In fact I like to watch people tell jokes that they think are funny whether they are or not.

Our pastor, who's just a few years older than our son and reminds me of him somewhat, told a funny story about cutting down his Christmas tree last Christmas. It seems he heard of this good deal where he could go to the forest (keep in mind we live in a desert, so there was some road time included) and cut his own tree for $15.

As he kept telling the very funny story of the adventure, he kept reminding my wife and me of our son. His facial expressions, his pausing, his building of suspense. I'm sure we were laughing harder than any of the other 12 dinner guests at the table, because we were making the same comparison in our minds. Bottom line: his experience was so humbling last year that he paid $12 a foot for his 6 foot tree this season. And saved money.

Sorry, Pastor Rob: I probably messed up the second story, too. I know I'll hear from our son for ruining a perfectly good joke. I guess that may be why I don't share too many On The QT.